


That map that leads to you

by Shaish



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Finding him eating frozen yogurt, Gen, Just searching for Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 21:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2363441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaish/pseuds/Shaish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Came about entirely because of this post; http://shaish.tumblr.com/post/97676678636/drparisa-what-i-want-from-cap-3-is-sam-and</p>
    </blockquote>





	That map that leads to you

**Author's Note:**

> Came about entirely because of this post; http://shaish.tumblr.com/post/97676678636/drparisa-what-i-want-from-cap-3-is-sam-and

Steve throws his shield and catches it just in time to deflect gunfire aimed his way while listening to the sound of Sam’s suit swooping in overhead and gunfire returned.

“ _Guess it’s not as empty as we thought, huh?_ ” Sam calls into his ear comm.

Steve lets out a grunt as he shoves his way through a small army of Hydra agents.

“Guess not.”

\--

Steve drops his shield on the the first bed in the hotel room with a sigh, rolling a kink out of his neck with a soft groan while Sam heads straight for the bathroom to take the first shower. The door closes but opens back up a minute later, Sam leaning into the room with a hand on the doorframe and dust and dirt smudged all over his skin and uniform.

“I know this was a dud,” he starts, and Steve lets out a sigh, “And I know it’s been five months since we started this crazy ghost hunt. But don’t worry. We’ll find him.”

Steve manages a tired smile, helmet dangling off of loose fingers. He’s pretty sure his pinky’s broken, and he’s not quite sure how that happened. “Shouldn’t I be the one saying that to you?”

Sam snorts, leaning back into the bathroom. “If I’ve learned anything in this whole ordeal, it’s that even Steve Rogers needs some moral support.”

Steve’s lips quirk up a little more lively as the door closes and he calls through the barrier, “Thanks, Sam!”

“ _You’re **welcome**!_ ” Sam calls back, all exaggerated overtones.

Steve manages a grin as he lets himself drop to sit on the edge of his chosen bed, carefully getting his gloves off before he resets his pinky. It _pops_ into place and he sucks in a slight breath.

 _Definitely_ broken.

\--

It’s a month later that Steve gets a call from Tony, of all people, saying, “ _So...You know that ‘ghost’ you’re chasing around the world?_ ”

“Yeah…?” Steve trails off in a question, standing in the middle of a demolished Hydra base. Sam wipes his forehead with the back of a hand at his right, looking over.

“ _He...might have been here the whole time?_ ” Tony replies after a moment, and Steve goes stock still, Sam shifting, alert in response. Steve stares straight ahead, not seeing anything.

“Tony,” he says calmly, voice almost completely flat, “What do you mean.”

\--

Steve stares at the screen of his phone for a long minute, feels Sam leaning over to look before letting out a loud, disgruntled sound. Steve can sympathize, or would if he could think past the pounding of his heart and the overwhelming emotions in his chest.

“ _So..._ ” Tony trails off from the speakers, “ _I’ll book a flight back for you at the nearest airport_.”

The call disconnects before Steve can reply, not that he can really form words right now.

\--

“You should just go over and talk to him,” Sam says from his back right. Steve keeps his shoulder close to the cement, peering around the corner of the large statue they’re both hidden behind (well, _Steve’s_ hidden behind. Sam’s just staring at him like he can’t believe _Captain America_ is _hiding behind a statue_ to _stay out of sight_ of his _70-years-long-thought-to-be-dead-best-friend_ , which kind of sums up everything) out at the tables set outside the frozen yogurt shop near the large community circle. There’s music playing from some street artists, people swaying to it and dancing, children playing and laughing and tugging on their parent’s pant legs or the ends of their shirts. It’s a nice sight, but Steve can’t focus on any of that right now.

“I can’t- I shouldn’t just- What if he runs off?” Steve finally asks, quieter, shoulders slumping a little when he feels Sam’s hand grip his right one.

“ _If he does_ , JARVIS will keep track of him,” Sam replies, continuing as Steve opens his mouth to make another protest, “ _And_ , I’ll follow him from the sky while you move on the ground. Even if he _does_ get away, he’s been here the whole time. He probably won’t leave the island, at least not right away.”

Steve blows out a breath, watching Bucky scoop up another white plastic spoonful of bright blue frozen yogurt and slide it into his mouth, pulling the spoon out after. He’s wearing a pair of dirty jeans, well worn with a few rips and tears here and there, a baseball cap on his head, dark boots that are just as worn, and a jacket that’s a little oversized and probably hiding an armory.

Steve lets out another sigh. “Alright. I can do this,” he says, more to himself than to Sam.

Sam gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and then a gentle nudge and Steve lets the small push move him forward, get his momentum going, stepping around and into the shadow of the statue and then back into the sun as he walks down the steps and across the large space, weaving around the civilians wading around, talking, eating, laughing, face angled down and baseball cap shading his face.

His steps slow the closer he gets to the table Bucky’s at until he comes to a stop ten feet behind him, a little off to his right. He’s pretty sure Bucky’s aware that Steve’s staring at him by now, but-

Bucky kicks the chair out opposite him with a foot, metal skidding on pavement, spooning another mouthful of frozen yogurt into his mouth like he’s still not aware of Steve at all. Steve takes a steadying breath and walks over, giving Bucky a wide berth as he comes around his side and carefully takes the seat, watching Bucky the whole time.

Bucky looks up.

He looks like he hasn’t shaved in a couple weeks, his hair’s pushed back behind his ears and held in place by his hat, and his eyes are the same blue that Steve remembers, but harder now, edged with things Steve’s only read in a translated file, but there’s still... _recognition_ there. He _knows_ who Steve is this time. At least enough (Steve hopes).

They don’t say anything for a few minutes, Bucky licking at his spoon like an ice cream cone while he stares across at Steve with who knows what going through his head. He could be trying to figure out more about Steve, about his memories, or he could be trying to analyze Steve and come up with the best and fastest way to kill him. Either way, Steve stays still and just stares back.

Finally, Bucky digs his spoon down into the dredges of his frozen yogurt and leaves it there, setting it on the table. “You look like shit, Steve,” he says, and it’s not what Steve expected him to stay at all, not anywhere close with his seemingly relaxed limbs, one leg spread out in front of him more than the other under the table, expression leaning a little away from _blank_ and more towards _unimpressed_ , and-

Steve finds himself laughing, long and hard and maybe a little hysterical. He knows a few people look over, can feel the stares on the sides of his face, but he can’t seem to _stop_.

When he settles down, after a few minutes of body shaking laughs and tears building in his eyes, he finds Bucky staring at him, lips twitching up even though his eyes are serious, can tell Steve’s more than a little frayed at the edges. Steve lets out a breath, wiping at his eyes with his hands. “I could say you look the same,” he says, and gives him a small smirk.

Bucky makes a small, slightly indignant noise but smirks back, just a slight raising of his lips more on one side than the other. “It’s been a rough few months,” he says, words coming out a little quieter.

Something in Steve’s chest weighs down a little and he hums in agreement, fingers tapping a brief beat on the tops of his thighs where his hands are resting, eyes dropping to them.

“I heard you were looking for me,” Bucky says after a moment, and Steve takes a minute before looking back up.

Bucky’s expression is mostly blank again, eyes focused solely on Steve, and Steve looks back down at his lap, fingers twitching a little against his jeans.

There’s a light scraping sound a few moments later and he looks up to find Bucky’s right hand retreating, the last of the slowly melting frozen yogurt now sitting in front of Steve.

Steve glances up at him, finds his expression unreadable, and looks back down, taking the yogurt container after a moment and scooping up a spoonful.

“Went looking around all of Europe for five months, and then some, “ Steve says, taking a bite. He looks up again when Bucky makes a quiet, scoffing sound, mouth pulled down in a grimace where he’s leaned back in his chair, watching Steve.

“You’re an idiot,” he states. Whether he’s referring to Steve looking all over Europe or eating the yogurt, he’s not sure. Steve just shrugs a little, scooping up another spoonful.

“Wouldn’t have done it if I knew you were _here **the whole time**_ ,” Steve says a little sourly, smoothing his expression back out as he shovels the spoonful of yogurt into his mouth, looking up at Bucky with a raised eyebrow as he swallows.

Bucky looks off to the side, lips pursed. He shifts and slouches down a little more into the chair, lacing his fingers over his stomach. Steve barely picks up the whir of his arm beneath the cover of his jacket.

“I needed to work some shit out,” Bucky says after a moment, eyes still looking off to the side, “Only started feeling more like... _me_ a month ago.”

“Then you let Tony find you,” Steve says, eating another spoonful.

“Stark,” Bucky corrects, eyes darting back to his.

Steve pauses, looking at him, conceding with a nod while looking back down at the almost empty container, sliding the spoon out of his mouth.

“He wasn’t exactly subtle,” Bucky finishes.

Steve looks up and catches him looking up and off to the side and follows his eyeline, looking just in time to catch a security camera turning away from them. He snorts quietly, shaking his head a little, and drops his eyes back to the container. “You coming?” he asks, keeping his eyes down, scooping up the last of the melted yogurt.

It’s quiet for a minute as he slips the spoon into his mouth, and then-

“I can take care of myself.”

Steve sets the container on the table, sitting up in his chair to look across it at Bucky.

He’s staring at Steve again, expression somehow a cross between unsure and blank and determined, and Steve could laugh, but doesn’t. He realizes he’s been walking in Bucky’s shoes since this whole search started.

“Yeah, but the thing is,” Steve quotes, making sure Bucky’s still watching him, “You don’t have to.”

Bucky’s eyes slowly widen as they go unfocused, lips parting slightly. He focuses back on Steve after a moment, sitting up straight in his own chair.

Then he kicks his leg out and Steve, chair and all, skid back a few inches with the force of it, metal scraping on cement and drawing a few eyes briefly their way. Steve’s frozen until Bucky crosses his arms over his chest, slouching back into his seat and looking a little like a sullen child.

Steve lets his lips curve up into a smile, letting it turn into a grin when Bucky frowns at him.

“You’re such a little shit, Rogers,” Bucky says, but his lips are twitching up and Steve grins wider.

“Yeah, but for some reason, no one else seems to think so,” Steve says lightly, pushing out of his chair.

Bucky does the same a moment after, and Steve waits for him to stand before turning and heading for the sidewalk, tossing the container and spoon in the trash on the way.

He hears Bucky’s bootsteps follow, just loud enough for Steve to pick up, Bucky slowing his pace down after he’s caught up to walk with Steve on his left. “They just don’t know you that well,” he says, voice quiet but slightly teasing.

“Nope, they don’t,” Steve agrees easily, pressing the button for the crosswalk.

“Stark, at least, seems like he would notice,” Bucky says casually, hands pushed down into his jacket pockets.

Steve hums in agreement. “You’d think. But he seems to be under the delusion that I’m as ‘wholesome as a golden retriever’.”

Bucky looks over at him like he’s grown a second head. “You?” he asks incredulously, “You’re more like a _feisty alley cat_ than a _golden retriever_. All that scrappy Irish in you.”

Steve laughs, shoving his own hands into his jacket pockets. He barely refrains from bumping his shoulder against Bucky’s while they wait for the lights to change, but after a moment Bucky bumps his shoulder into Steve’s and Steve shares a smile with him, bumping his back. “I missed you, Buck,” he says softly.

Bucky’s smile softens a little as the lights change. “I missed you too, Punk.”

“Jerk,” Steve shoots back with a small grin.

Bucky’s lips twitch up into something like one too and they start crossing the street, side by side.

It’s not quite there, not yet, but he’s getting there.


End file.
